A useful thing called love
by Umbrellabird
Summary: The Joker is angry and pouring it all on Harley. What happens when she accidentally opposes him? Whatever it is, she won't resist. Much. Love is a strange thing, and really useful in the right, white hands...


When I first time stumbled across these two, I fell immediately in love. In my (slightly) twisted mind I think they make a perfect couple, in their own way. I knew what kind of stories I wanted to read about them, finding brilliant ones. But I wanted more, so I made one myself! Finally. After months of endless yes-no-maybe-competition.

This is also my very first story with characters already existing, my first fanfic! I'm very eager to read comments about it, critique is welcome as well but then please explain why/what went wrong. Note also that English isn't my mother tongue, so yes, there's errors and things weirdly written. If you find these, please tell me so I can fix them! :)

I love all the Jokers I've found, so this one is kind of a mix up of them all, the nolanverse, tas, everything. So tell me what you think about him!

And yeah the disclaimer: I own no-one in this story. You probably knew it. ;)

Enjoy!

**An useful thing called love**

She saw that one coming. A radio flew towards her head and she ducked quickly. The small machine smashed against the wall and fell apart. Harley gave an involuntary whimper which would hopefully make the Joker believe his ammo had hit its target.

Or maybe not. Harley plunged behind the ragged couch they had in their newest hideout. The Joker's mad laughter filled the room as he turned to leave as a winner, like the hundreds of times before.

Harley began to feel red-hot with fury. It was _not _her fault that the Bat had eliminated all his underlings during his previous gig. And it was definitely _not _her fault that the annoying winged jerk had guessed who was behind the plan. Why did it have to be _her_ who always was the one to suffer from the Joker's anger?

Oh, she had seen that one coming. _He _definitely didn't. Harley scooped up the broken radio with all its insides leaving only the microscopic pieces on the floor, and aimed carefully one eye closed and tongue sticking out of her mouth. She threw the scrambled machine as hard as she could. With a massive 'bang' it hit the Joker's back of the head.

He turned around, furious, his manic laughter turning to a breathy, dangerous giggle. _A warning sing number one. Choose your weapon,_ Harley thought. She did not so much as flinch when the Joker's now glowing, murderous eyes met hers. At that moment she was beyond flinching. Maybe she was weaker and softer than her Puddin', and she always tried to exhaustion not to anger her Puddin' in any way, but now she'd had enough.  
"Who do you think you are, throwing things at me like I'm the one to blame!" she screamed, furious and hurt, which gave her normally piercing voice so sharp edge that someone else's ear drums would've been in trial.

The Joker didn't respond, he just stood there panting, letting out his demonic giggles. So Harley went on yelling uninterrupted, her high voice adapting to the emotions she was letting out.  
"I hate it when you get hurt and I hate the Bat too-"  
Hard lines appeared around Joker's now pouting mouth,  
" - but do _not _act like it's all my fault! It makes me feel like I'm unwanted, stupid and repulsive!"

The Joker took little steps towards Harley. His mass of curly, greenish hair clung to his shoulders which his tightened neck muscles had drawn up high, covering his neck. The shadows lurking in his eyes spread all over his scarred, white face.

He mouthed one word on every step he took closer and his voice was pure honey, barely concealing the madness and the rage underneath.  
"Harley. Quinn. Harl. I do find you stupid and repulsive. And you _are _unwanted. And you know what?" He crossed the few last filthy floor boards between him and Harley, who still stood stiffly among the debris of their radio, shoulders drawn back, teeth clenched together and defiance in her bright blue eyes.

The Joker's words had hurt her deeply, but she refused to believe in them. _Mister J has said lots of things when upset_, she reminded herself. _Worse things than that. He doesn't mean it, not really. _Besides, being this close to her Puddin' made her blood run faster and heart quicken up its rate despite any words he might say. She assumed he could hear it too.  
"Just let it all out, Puddin'! There's nothing like telling the truth every once in a while", she tried to say encouragingly, her anger already replaced by the excitement his closeness gave her.

The Joker's lopsided grin was now directly above Harley, since he wasn't too short a man. He placed his hands on her arms, rubbing them and putting pressure in his touch. Harley's back stiffened when the leather sleeves of her suit scraped against her flesh, leaving it tender and red. _But that's just my Puddin's way of doing things, always a notch too violent, _Harley thought, and felt a cloud of heat stir inside her. She started to melt again, looking at her Mister J smile down to her and touching her, despite the fact that he was hurting her simultaneously in the process.

"You know what, Harl?" Joker then repeated his question. If the sudden closeness of her Puddin' didn't get her alarms ringing in distress, that deceiving soft voice should have done it. _Warning sign number two. There's still a slight chance of kissing instead of bleeding. _

Harley ignored the menace in the Joker's eyes and simply slid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently. _He's always menacing, so a girl gotta take her chances, right?_  
"Lots of things, Puddin', a myriad!"  
She sounded so hopelessly adoring that the Joker couldn't hide the twitch of the corner of his lips. He leaned closer and Harley squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for a kiss that seemed inevitable. Instead the Joker whispered softly in her ear:  
"I am not the one to be toyed with. That's what the tied-up people are for."  
_A warning sign number three. Game over. You lost. Now run like hell. _Harley's eyes were open and bigger than ever in less than a second, her hands ready to push herself away, but it was too late already.

The Joker's pressure on her arms turned into an aggressive grip and he showed Harley to the floor, in the middle of the remainings of the broken radio. She gasped when the sharp-edged shards bit through her leather garb and sank in her flesh. The Joker kicked her between her ribs, turning her around. He cocked his head to the side and pretended worried.  
"Poor Harl, who has hurt you? Don't you worry, you don't look half as repulsive now, with your face covered in blood!" He bursted to a delighted laughter and clapped his hands against his thighs. Then he placed one foot on each side of Harley's body and crouched over her.

One shard had made a wide gush from Harley's forehead all the way to her chin and running blood now stained her black mask. Joker inspected the wound with his wide green eyes and Harley saw a sparkle in the corner of his eyes. She knew that look, she had seen it so many times before that it had become as familiar to her as his recognizable violet suit.

Harley tried feebly to get up. When the Joker had the glint of an idea in his eyes, it always meant something painful, she knew that much. Her movement caused the Joker to slap her hard across her face. He hadn't his gloves on but even without the hard leather the blow left a reddening mark. It made Harley's eyes water but she resisted the urge to feel her cheek with her fingers.  
"Haven't you learnt yet not to disturb me when I'm thinking?"

Harley tried not to move an inch and struggled to keep her breath even. It was hard, though, because there were merely few inches of air that separated his body from hers. She wasn't going to let one throbbing cheek distract her from what really mattered: her Puddin' had said she was repulsive and yet there he was, pinning her down to the floor, touching her... Even if it was only beating she got, she'd take it eagerly. _At least he's touching me... And we all know where that can lead, don't we?_

The Joker was rummaging the pockets of his dark violet suit. "Oops, not here, not here either... Funny how few pockets this jacket has and I still can't find the one damned thing I'm looking for!"

Finally he pulled out a small pocket knife, its handle covered in dark stains of dried blood. Harley knew that knife too, it was one of her Puddin's favorites.  
"Ah, not quite what I was looking for, but we can have some fun with this, too, can't we Harley?" He caressed the blade and toyed with it's sharp edge, tracing it down with his thumb. Harley followed his fingers with her eyes, waiting for him to turn his attention to her. The Joker caught her gaze and chuckled, leaning closer to Harley underneath him.  
"We are feeling impatient, are we?" he murmured, but Harley dared not nod. She was trying to keep still, waiting for what his next movement would be. The aftermath of the Joker's blow was starting to make her a little dizzy, or was it the fact that she could feel his warm breath on her neck?

Any movement could pull the trigger in the Joker's unreadable mind and Harley didn't want to push him further and make him cut her worse than ever. Not that he wasn't going to, there was no way of foretelling what her beloved madman would do to her. Once he had smashed her head against the wall until she blacked out, he had strangled her countless times with every object imaginable, tried to drown her in a public aquarium and she had lost consciousness so many times that she had lost count. Most of the times she had deserved it. The rest, she couldn't remember, except for the blinding pain that made her scream and scream and scream.

Harley didn't actually care whether he hurt her or not: she had obviously done something wrong to displease him – Like she hadn't already known that yelling at him would earn her a bloody nose. _I just couldn't help myself this time. If I didn't yell at him every once in a while, I'd explode! _- and there was a price she'd have to pay, that was the deal with her Mister J.

The Joker rested his head against Harley's rising and falling chest, listening to her heartbeat quicken even more at his touch.  
"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" he said slowly, still listening.  
"The way it beats so strongly, only to be stopped so easily... Counting down the beats to its death, pulsing the blood around in you, pulsing the blood to be spilled on this dirty floor..." He raised his head and looked Harley straight in the eyes. "Boom, boom, boom."

And Harley thought her heart would explode, so intensive and capturing was his gaze, so close were his face to hers. The Joker brought the knife to her face, following her features with its edge. Harley felt its cold tip draw a line across her face until it stopped at the point where her lips joined.  
"Do you know how I got these scars?" he asked her, his voice soft as ever.

It was the most menacing question he could have ever asked her, the one he used to ask his victims before he slashed them open like a safe made of butter. The sight of him doing it made Harley go insane with craving for him. _He tells a different story every time. I wonder which one he has chosen for me, _Harley thought, not a one bit intimidated, only fascinated. The knife was now pressed against her upper lip, so she settled with a sound between agreeing and inquiring. She wanted to make her Puddin' happy, but she wasn't keen on losing her lip because of her own stupidity.

The Joker had never shared the true story of his scars with her, not that she hadn't tried to ask about it. Harley thought it as a sign of true commitment when he'd confide in her with his secret, but he never brought it up. Or might be she'd heard the true story at some point of their mutual sessions at Arkham Asylum, but being able to pick it up among hundreds of different versions would've required some serious pondering... And there rarely was a moment when she wanted to remember the time before she had escaped with her Puddin' and embraced her truer self as his underling co-worker, as Harley Quinn. Harley loved to think herself as the Joker's girlfriend as well, the romanticist she was, but her Puddin' had made it exceptionally clear that she wasn't one. _That's right, what me and my Puddin' have is so much more than a normal, boring relationship, _she told herself weekly, washing the fresh blood off her face, hers or somebody else's.

"Oh, you do know the story? That's a shame, it's a nice, dark one with lots of blood and twisted love... Those kinds are your favorites, if I recall." He smiled eyes narrowing, the red scars of his mouth stretching. _He is so handsome! _Harley wanted to lift her head and crush her lips against his, taste his breath and feel his dry skin against her own, but she dared not. Not with the cool steel grinding into her face. The Joker's smile widened to a grin when he saw the emotions in her widened eyes.

"Well..." he said, a darker tone in his voice. "How 'bout we put our souls into the story and make it real?"  
He slid the knife inside Harley's mouth so hard that it drew blood. Harley answered his intensive stare, her bright blue eyes shining behind the black mask now soaked in her blood. Few strands of her blonde hair had gotten loose under her harlequin hat and she shivered with anticipation. Her Puddin' was about to scar her face and then there would be nothing keeping them apart! _I will be his and the whole world can see it. _

"I... I would love to, Mister J", she whispered to him, not closing her eyes for one second so she could enjoy as long as possible his green eyes locked on her face, watching only her. _Then you wouldn't have to admit that you love me, I could just look into a mirror and see it for myself._

The Joker slid the knife deeper in her mouth, pressing it against her cheek, not smiling anymore. Only the red, never-fading marks on his face remained in their optimistic expression. He stared into Harley's hopeful eyes for a moment longer, as if trying to see how he could get the biggest amount of fear out of the girl under his body.

Harley could taste her blood and she savored its taste, linking it automatically to all those times she had evoked passionate feelings in her Puddin', to all those times he had made her bleed and feel his closeness. Her heart thumped inside her chest like it was going to push through her ribs and she moved the tiniest bit upwards, pressing her body against the one above hers.

The Joker's forehead creased and slowly, almost regretting he draw the knife out of Harley's mouth. He smiled teasingly and put the knife back in his pocket.  
"You are a one twisted little thing, Harley", he said and leaned even closer to her face. "I should cut you open and leave you rotting in a gutter. You're worthless."

He stuck out his tongue and licked the blood-dripping wound on Harley's face. She closed her eyes and sighed of pleasure. She tried to move, but the Joker put his full body weight on top of her, preventing every movement except for his. With one swift movement of his tongue the blood covering her cut was gone.

The Joker smacked his lips, Harley's blood blending with the redness of them, and stood abruptly up.  
"What a tasty little snack you'd make for someone", he said a little smirk playing on his face. He wiped the blood off his lips with his hand and spat on the floor. A hair-raising giggle escaped his lips and he left without even glancing Harley, leaving her on the floor trembling with lust, face streaked with smeared make up and blood and with a painful craving for the man she would never truly have, not in the way she wanted him.

The Joker had always known Harley better than she did, and he never failed to exploit that. That maddening yearning for him was the most difficult thing for Harley to cope with, and that desire caused her suffering beyond any physical wound he could make. She was hooked, and he knew it.


End file.
